poetry

Dancerian Mania

By Amy Thomson

Cells buzz like sky wires,

she keeps dancing, never tires.

Through grey rain, her feet turn blue,

smile stained, nothing new.

She dances through the city streets,

kissing everyone she meets.

Twirling down the interstate,

swirling home, it’s getting late.

Finally, her feet meet sand,

ocean gateway to homeland.

Her battered feet begin to heal,

delicious moment’s peace she steals.

She pirouettes into the waves,

home at last, she is saved.

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poetry

quiet spaces

By Amy Thomson

Souls bound,
found pieces of my own
thrown under friend’s car seats,
dropped in side-streets,
wrapped in bedsheets
askew.

Places
like spaces between words
in loyal paperbacks,
in sidewalk cracks,
baggage unpacked,
I’m new.

Spotted
blue dotted between leaves,
ancient thread in Earth’s sleeves
weaves me to you,
a deja vu
soul glue.

Restored
by the cord that fastens
wild Pines to Aspens,
magic happens
in hazel pools
of two.

 

 

poetry

Mousetrap

By Amy Thomson

First impression,
confession: smitten,
fangs bit in,
venom dopamine,
first serene,
then you got mean,
razor tongue cut my folly so quick,
you’re sick,
trick your prey
to come play,
I pray
you recover,
discover that
you’re prettier smiling.
Filing moments
before we were opponents,
components of misery simple.
Into your mousetrap,
bones snap,
heart slap,
they’ll lap
your lies.

 

poetry

Project Honey

By Amy Thomson

Shoes shuffled squares of grey,
Arm in arm one Spring Thursday,
House museums lined the streets,
Project Honey we would complete.

Ceiling portals opened wide,
Honey sister by my side,
Lights shined through the dancing plaster,
Heartbeats raced faster, faster.

Sticky membranes were my sky,
She saw jungles through her third eye,
Sank beneath the arctic sea,
With my favorite honeybee.

Lava lamps and Christmas lights
Were our suns on this great night.
Venus kept us safe and sound,
In our girl hive, sisters bound.

Then flew in the phallic drones,
We had to leave our royal thrones.
Flew outside to pollinate,
Struggled just to acclimate.

Seeds of fear sprouted their buds,
Water drops became flash floods.
Spooked by gutter’s gurgling mouth,
Sisters started flying south.

I had to leave my fellow queen,
Returned to my hive, began to wean
Never would we forget this trip,
In our golden honey ship.

 

 

poetry

Another Day at the Masquerade

By Amy Thomson

The closet of masks
sparkles with gleaming teeth,
beneath empty eyes,
hollow lies
lie lurking.
Always working
the perfect angle,
trust is mangled
and coated
with sugar bloated,
empty words
that fill your ears,
crawl into your brain,
center of disdain,
dissolve.
Conversation involves
crafting your smile,
spitting saccharin lullabies
from your gleaming teeth
catch your reflection,
caught the infection,
staring back at two, hollow eyes.